


Little Red

by mpar309



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Dark Stiles, M/M, Nemeton, Rimming, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpar309/pseuds/mpar309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a collection of artwork created by Creature13 that I saw while on Tumblr.</p><p>Takes place a few years after the Nemeton. Stiles never completely recovers from it, but becomes dark and a little twisted instead. Supes of all kinds have heard of the Beacon Hills Pack's human and they've nicknamed him Little Red. Everyone fears Stiles now. Everyone except Derek that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [3812: wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33117) by Creature13. 



> So this really just came out of no where. I have't written a fan fiction of any kind in a number of years and this is my first Teen Wolf/Sterek story. Be gentle with me on this, but definitely leave a comment if you can!
> 
> Overall, I think that it came out pretty well considering I wrote it in about two hours. I think the ending is a little rushed, but I wanted to finish it before I went to bed. Like I said, if you have sometime, I'd really appreciate a comment.
> 
> I'm also going to go ahead and offer up prompt taking. I'd really prefer it if it was a short prompt though, else I can't guarantee that I'll be able to get it all done.

They called him Little Red. ‘They’ being the supes that crossed into Beacon Hills territory. He was just as well known as the others in the pack and just as dangerous, if not more so. Anyone who mistook him as a simple human were the first to end up dead.

Stiles Stilinski was no longer the soft faced, hyperactive teenager that most had known him as when he was in high school. There were days that even his own father had trouble recognizing him. He had become the hunter and the world was his prey. He transformed just as the wolves did, but in his own way. Little Red was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He ran through the preserve, dodging tree roots and rabbit holes with a grace that could only come through years of training. Lacrosse and cross country helped form him into what he was now, but running with his wolves added the finishing touches. Breathes came in controlled counts – in and out, through the nose and out the mouth. Steam from hot breath hitting cold air gushed out of the sides of his metal wolf mask. Honey eyes glowed through the eye slits when the light of the moon angled just right. He could almost be mistaken as a beta at first glance.

A metal bat stained dark with blood and other viscous fluids from various supes was clutched in his hand. Dents littered the surface of the bat, telling stories of those who dared to cross him. It had served him well in the last couple of years. Along its surface bolts were punched in to give Little Red’s swing a little more punch. Most of the stains were circled around those, rust beginning to eat away at some of them.

A single howl ripped through the night and Little Red’s head whipped towards the sound. He shifted his course, his feet ghosting across the ground. Only the rustles of leaves and the occasional gun shot of a branch breaking let any observer know that he wasn’t ethereal, but made of flesh and bones. He pushed himself to go faster, his breathe remaining even, and his ears straining for sounds that let him know that he was close to his prey.

After a few more minutes of running, Little Red could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. A shiver made its way up his spine and he could feel his chest tighten. He knew he was closing in and another howl, closer this time, confirmed it. He slowed to a stop, steam billowing out of his mask making him look like a demon that even Hell wouldn’t want. Shadows seemed to draw away from him, afraid in their own right, but he slipped into them anyways, more at home in them than he was anywhere else. Only the glow of his eyes from the moon hinted at his location.

He shifted his grip on his bat, swinging it up into position. Both hands tightened around the grip, the handle giving a quite creak at the strength in which he held it. His breathing became even more shallow, more quiet. His movements stilled, the twitches from his teenage years nowhere to be seen. He blended in with the darkness, becoming one with it.

Wind rippled across the preserve, snagging onto the red hoodie that Little Red cloaked himself in. It tugged at the strings, giving a light pull on them. It also carried the noise of someone running, crashing through the woods in a desperate attempt to get away. He could even hear the heavy, panicked breathing of his prey. Little Red gave a tut under his breath that was taken by the wind. Only a werewolf would have been able to hear it, had one been close enough.

The crashing and breathing became louder, moving with a rapid pace towards Little Red’s location. Desperation seemed to permeate the air and Little Red tensed, coiled ready to spring. A long shadow flashed in the moonlight followed by a heavy body. Little Red stepped from his hiding space, swinging his bat around and up into the body. A sickening crack reamed through the air that anyone in the vicinity with above average hearing would be able to hear. They would know that the bat connected with a skull, crushing bone, destroying tissue and blood vessels, and popping an eye like a squashed blueberry. The scent of blood and other fluids filled the air, followed by a scream that could rival Lydia’s.

Little Red stood over his fallen prey, shifting the bat between his two hands. He debated finishing off the creature beneath him or waiting for the others. It was a pathetic sight to behold – a Reaper had been bested by a human and was now rolling around the muddy ground, moaning and groaning about the side of his face. Little Red snorted in derision. The Reaper’s face would heal soon enough, unless he decided to smash the rest of it in. Before he could go through with doing just that however, a circle of shadows invaded his vision. He looked up, taking in the sight of five heavily breathing werewolves. Three pairs of red eyes, a pair of gold, and a pair of steel blue regarded him with varying looks. The ranged from silent respect, to fear, and even to lust. Beneath his mask Little Red could feel the corner of his mouth quirk up at the last look. That was directed at him by the single pair of steel blue eyes. 

“You didn’t have to wreck him that much,” commented Scott. Little Red raised a shoulder and let it fall. It wasn’t as if he meant to pop the thing’s eye – the bat just happened land like such on its face. They were going to kill it anyways. After all the human souls that it had taken – far before their time might he add – they couldn’t let it live. Little Red wouldn’t.

“Just get it over with,” said Aiden, “There’s no point in trying to reason with it. If we let it live, it’ll just keep taking human souls. And if we let it live now, it’ll just come after us.”

Scott sighed in resignation. Even now, even after everything, Scott wasn’t a killer. That wasn’t to say that he had never killed something in the years since the Nemeton, but he only did so when it was necessary, such as now. Little Red did most of the killings for Scott though, because while Scott was still good inside, he was not. The Nemeton had made sure that he was just as twisted on the inside as it was on the outside and he had become a killer so that Scott didn’t have to. And if it was also because a little part of him wanted to, enjoyed being a killer, well that was only for him to know.

Little Red looked at Scott, waiting for the go ahead. Scott gave a small head nod and wave of the hand, turning his head to look just over Little Red’s shoulder. Little Red brought the bat above his head with both hand and swung it down, another crack echoing through the preserve. From the corner of his eye he could see Isaac flinch. He raised it again and brought it down again, and again, and again. He didn’t stop until the head was destroyed, until it looked like nothing more than a split open pumpkin. Blood and whatnot flecked the bat, his hands, his mask, his clothes.

Only then did his breathing become uneven, his heart beating rapidly, a shiver in his arms appearing. He stood tall again, the bat hanging by his fingertips at his sides. Little Red glanced around the faces: Scott looked at him a little sad, Ethan and Aiden looked understand, Isaac looked sick, and Derek – Derek looked like he was about to rip the clothes from Little Red’s body and fuck him against the nearest tree until he was wailing his release, coming over the leaves, and bleeding from the scratches on his chest from the bark of the tree. He flashed hot at that thought.

Scott made a noise like a wounded puppy in the back of his throat, drawing Little Red’s attention back to him. “Go get cleaned up,” was all Scott said, motioning for Isaac to follow him. Ethan and Aiden, recognizing the dismissal, turned back into the woods and lopped off into a run, falling to all fours. Scott and Isaac went the opposite way, going down to all fours as well. Derek was the only one who remained and so Little Red turned to him, staring at him through the slits in his wolf mask. Derek stared back, making no movement towards or away from him, only his head cocked, listening.

Seeming to be satisfied after a minute, Derek gave a nod to himself before striding towards Little Red. It was more like stalking though and Little Red felt a rush of arousal shoot straight to his groin. He knew this game, this game where he became the prey again. He turned on his heel and fled, dropping the bat by the body that was rotting away with record speed – that was the nice thing about Reapers: easy clean up. 

A snarl came from behind him has he pumped his arms, feet slamming against the ground in effort to put distance between him and the werewolf. He knew he wouldn’t make it far, not with the look that Derek had been giving him. It was as he was vaulting a fallen tree that a weight like a cement truck crashed into his back, tackling him to the ground. They rolled a few feet and Little Red ended up beneath Derek’s heavy body. 

Derek’s face floated over his own, eyes boring into his own. They demanded submission as did the snarl that was painted across Derek’s face. Not one to simply roll over and submit, Little Red swung his fist around, connecting it with the side of Derek’s head. It did little to deter Derek and only made his whole arm smart, but he swung again, this time with the other hand. Derek was expecting it though and caught the fist in his much larger hand. In a quick movement that had Little Red a little dizzy, Derek had flipped him over onto his stomach, and pulled his hips off the ground. Little Red tried to climb to his hands, but a hand between his shoulder blades kept his upper body pinned to the forest floor.

A hand snaked around his waist, crawling over his hip to the button of his pants. With deft fingers, Derek popped the button and pulled his zipper down. Little Red tried to push against the hand pinning him, bucking his hips to try and throw the weight of Derek off of him, but it was futile. Derek was going to take and Little Red was along for the ride. Another hot flush of arousal made its way to his groin, his cock growing harder. He was glad that Derek had already pulled his zipper down, else he would have been pressed against it and would have ended up with a zipper imprint on his dick.

Derek’s weight shifted behind him and he took his hand from between Little Red’s shoulder blades to pull down his pants with rough hands. Little Red tried to lurch away at the new found freedom, but powerful hands gripped his hips in bruising grip and pulled him. His hands scrambled across the ground trying to find purchase to fight against Derek, but it was useless. Derek shifted his grip again, wrapping one arm around Little Red’s hips as the other went to undo his own pants. 

Little Red panted heavily as he heard the rustle of clothing from behind him. He threw a look over his should, seeing Derek with his forehead pressed against back, his free arm moving between them, probably giving a few jerks to his own dick to get it awakened to its fullest. Drool began to fill his mouth at the thought of what Derek was going to do to him. 

He swung his arm back behind him, open handed this time, to smack Derek on the head. Derek raised his head and gave a snarl, baring his teeth with his eyes glowing even fiercer. He pulled his arm from between them and knocked Little Red’s arms out from beneath him, causing him to fall to his upper body again. Derek pulled back then to get his face level with Little Red’s ass. Keeping a firm grip on Little Red’s hips, he buried his face between Little Red’s globes and lashed out at the quivering hole with his tongue.

Little Red cried out and tried to squirm away, but the hands on his hips only tightened and the tongue worked harder and faster against his hole. He could feel Derek lave the outside of it before stiffening his tongue and prodding at the hole. It gave way after a moment and Derek wiggled his tongue inside of Little Red.

Jerking and twitching with pleasure, Little Red cried out, hands trying to find purchase on the muddy ground. He twisted and bucked against Derek, trying to get more. Derek pulled his face back and plunged two fingers into Little Red’s red, puffy hole without mercy. Little Red let out a yelp at the rough treatment that turned into a moan of pleasure as Derek twisted and curled his fingers to brush against Little Red’s prostate. Derek worked his fingers in and out of Little Red’s hole, scissoring them to stretch him and brushing against his prostate every few strokes.

When Little Red was a writhing mess of pleasure with his dick leaking pre come over the leaves beneath his body, Derek pulled his fingers free one last time. Little Red gave a whine at the loss, but was soon keening and arching his back at the press of Derek’s dick against his sensitive hole. Derek pressed in with steady pressure, sliding home in one smooth thrust. When he bottomed out, Little Red let out a howl of pleasure.

Not wasting anytime with gentle strokes, Derek began thrusting with abandon into Little Red’s body. The air was filled with the pants and cries of Little Red and the sound of skin smacking skin. Derek set a brutal pace that had Little Red pushing his hips back to get more of the pleasure that bordered pain. Hands that were tipped with sharp nails dug into Little Red’s hips that had him crying harder in the haze of pleasure-pain. They helped to pull Little Red back harder onto Derek’s cock.

At the rate that they were going, Little Red knew that neither of them would last much longer. Derek must have known this too because he shifted his position, draping himself more fully against Little Red’s back. He pulled Little Red’s hoodie to the side and buried his face in the spot of skin where neck met shoulder. The shift in angle had Derek pounding against Little Red’s prostrate in an unforgiving manner and had him screaming with the pain that almost wasn’t pleasure. 

Little Red felt Derek loosen the grip on one of his hips as he slid his hand around grasp at his weeping cock. It only took a few harsh tugs before Little Red was spilling everything he was worth against the ground and screaming out Derek’s name loud enough that every werewolf in Beacon Hills would know what they were doing. He arched his back so hard that he knew that he would be paying for it later. He could feel his inner muscles squeeze Derek hard enough that it probably was more pain than pleasure.

Derek let out a muttered curse before he was sinking his teeth into the delicate skin between neck and shoulder. Little Red could feel him jerk inside of him, come washing over his insides. The heat of pain coursed through his neck and shoulder, but he couldn’t be bothered by it, choosing to collapse instead, Derek following on top of him.

The two laid there for long minutes, trying to get their breaths back. Derek worked his tongue over the bite in Little Red’s shoulder, lapping up the blood that had welled over. The heat of the blood burned Little Red, but he enjoyed it, especially when Derek rolled his tongue over the rivulets in a soothing manner.

Little Red closed his eyes to bask in the afterglow when he felt a hand at the back of his head. Fingers worked the clasps that held the mask to his face. They tugged and pulled, freeing the straps from their restraints. The mask pulled away from his face a little bit, the cool air of the night working its way to touch his face more fully. The hand on the back of his head moved to grasp the mask and pulled it away from his face, moving it somewhere off to the side of them.

He took a deep breath in and opened his eyes, meeting hazel ones. He gave a small smirk and Derek huffed, stretching his neck to give a kiss to pliant pink lips. It was a simple peck, but it was enough, for now.

“Welcome back, Stiles.”


End file.
